


please forgive me (i've got demons)

by aydenjett



Category: Juliantina - Fandom
Genre: Blasphemy, F/F, Maca in a nun's outfit really wouldn't leave me alone so here we are, Santa Muerte, a.k.a. Nun AU, some Spanish but i'm white so please correct my grammar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-12-28 18:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21141047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aydenjett/pseuds/aydenjett
Summary: Juliana and Valentina both seek peace and refuge in the Catholic Church. Instead of God, they find each other.





	1. bow your head in the house of God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title - Moderation by Florence + the Machine

Juliana stares up at the ornamental spires reaching high toward the heavens. Appropriate, she thinks, considering the spires belong to a house of God. She considers the angles and shapes, the yellow light of the sun hitting the windows and the shadows swallowing the overhangs. It’s objectively beautiful and she can appreciate the design and artistry that the architect had clearly poured into it. As she stands on the cracked sidewalk in front of it, small under its hulking silhouette, she shifts her weight back and forth with indecision. The cathedral in front of her seems to loom even closer, intimidating her into choosing. To go in, or not to go in? 

With one last rock back onto her heels, she surges forward before she can regret it. Her feet tap up the steps quickly and she reaches the large, foreboding wooden door slightly out of breath. She hesitates at the last second with her arm outstretched toward the handle when suddenly the door opens and a middle-aged priest nearly runs into her. Fate, it seems, has made up her mind for her.

“Oh, hello!” The man says, a bright smile on his face. 

“Uh, hi.” Juliana says, eyebrows still raised in surprise. 

“Sorry about that señorita, were you coming in?” He opens the door wider and gestures inside. 

“Uh, yes. Thank you.” She says, her voice stilted. She takes a quick step into the cathedral, making sure to give the priest a wide berth.

“Is there something I can help you with, señorita?” He had turned his body back to her and was letting the door swing closed. 

“Oh...” she pauses, unsure whether to ask for assistance. “Yes please. This is my first time coming here, could you please point me to the sanctuary?” Juliana says in a small voice. She hated to have pulled him away from his duty, but she hated the idea of being lost in this suffocating building even more. The foyer she stands in is dark compared to the sunlight she stepped in from. The shadows cast by the candles lining the walls make her uneasy.

“Of course,” he says with a warm voice. He strides past her and points to an adjoining room through another set of dark wooden doors, this time open, “Through here.”

“Thank you, sorry to have kept you from your day,” Juliana says, offering him a small apologetic smile. 

He gently scoffs, “It wasn’t important, just a stroll in the sun. Nothing compared to welcoming a new guest to Nuestra Señora de Compasión. I’m happy you have come today.” He and Juliana begin walking down the hallway to the sanctuary. “Why have you come to see us today? Anything weighing on your mind?” he asks. At his glance over to her, Juliana feels as if he knows the exact thoughts running through her mind. She panics. 

“Oh, uh no, nothing serious. I haven’t attended in a while and I came to... get back into practice. Prayer and lighting candles and all that,” she lies with a dismissive wave of her hand. In truth, Juliana had never set foot inside a real cathedral. Her papá had done his worshipping at home, casting aside the teachings about fellowship, thus Juliana and her mamá had been forced to do the same. 

“Ah, I see. Would you like advice, or to be left alone?” he says as they reach the center of the sanctuary. He folds his hands in front of his waist and clasps them together. Juliana is too busy looking around to notice the fond smile on his face before she answers. 

“Um, alone for now, thank you. Please enjoy your walk.”

“I will, thank you. The warmth of the sun always feels as if God himself is smiling upon me.” He slides back the lengthy sleeves of his robe to glance at a simple looking watch on his wrist. “I’ll be back within half an hour, señorita…” he trails off in question.

“Juliana.”

“Señorita Juliana,” he repeats with another wide smile, “Padre Reyes. I’ll be back soon should you need anything. I hope you find the peace you are looking for.” He reverently inclines his head toward her as he backs away, then turns on his heel and walks back toward the entrance. Juliana’s eyes follow him out the doors. He had seemed like a fine enough man, but in her experience, ‘devout’ and ‘good’ are mutually exclusive, and first impressions are often wrong. She shakes that train of thought free from her head and hesitantly steps forward.

The carved image of a mid-crucifixion Jesus Christ looms above her, eyes and wounds openly weeping. His form is half-illuminated from the colored light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows lining the room, giving him an unwelcoming appearance, as though he were hung there in order to judge Juliana specifically. The deep burgundy carpet beneath her feet is plush enough to feel even through her sneakers. She puts one foot in front of the other and sits in a pew toward the front. 

The entire sanctuary is empty now and that soothes her. She kneels the same way she used to at home and brings her hands together, leaning over the back of the pew in front of her. Her eyes slide closed and she’s thrust into the depths of her mind. Her emotions envelop her. All she can bring herself to pray is “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” as she ignores the tears falling silently down her cheeks. She doesn’t even know who to pray to anymore. Praying directly to God seems selfish, and praying to Mary seems insincere; she’s never felt as though she’s had a relationship with either of them. She takes a deep breath and forcefully wipes the tears from her face and tries again.

“Señora de la Noche,” she begins and takes another shuddering breath before she continues, even though it’s only in her head, “it’s probably blasphemy for me pray to you here, but you’re all I know. You might not even have sympathy for me. My papá made us pray to you every day and I never liked it. I felt like a hypocrite. I felt like my papá was a hypocrite. We prayed to you for protection, when…” She trails off, unable to complete the thought. She sniffles and pushes herself to finish, “My papá kills people. He does it for a living. That’s already bad enough, but worse, he enjoys it.” She breaks off again in a broken sob. She had never admitted this to anyone, not even to a probably non-existent, definitely unrecognized religious presence. After another few breaths though, Juliana feels a little lighter, less burdened.

“I am sorry for him, I’m sorry I never stopped him. I’m... a- a coward and I was too afraid to confront him. I’m sorry for all the people he’s delivered to you. Could you… could you tell them that? That I’m sorry? I know it probably won’t make a difference.” She brings her head up as she sniffles again and wipes at her nose with her sleeve. How long is one supposed to pray for? She certainly doesn’t know procedure. She doesn’t even know how much time has passed since she began praying, but if the slight ache in her knees was any indication, then it had been a while. She stands up wincing at the indentation she can feel from the seam of her jeans that had been bearing into her legs as she knelt.

Juliana looks around and notices she’s no longer alone. The priest from before is quietly going from candle to candle cleaning the wax off the brass catchers underneath. He is clearly experienced at moving silently on the thick carpet, so as not to disturb those in prayer. Mission accomplished, she thinks. He notices her stand and turns to face her after he cleans and lights the final candle. She wonders if he had found some menial task to do so he could be around if she needed him.

“Hello again, Señorita Juliana, have you found the peace you seek?” He asks, wiping his hands free of wax on a white handkerchief procured from an inside pocket of his robes. Juliana opens her mouth to assure him, but finds herself unable to lie. Maybe it’s the location. She shakes her head instead.

“I see,” he nods slowly in understanding. “Would you benefit from Confession? I am available now, if you don’t mind it not being anonymous.”

“I-I um… I’ve never…” She flounders both with her words and her hands.

“I can walk you through it; there’s nothing to be afraid of. It might help.”

Juliana takes a deeper look at him and can see the encouraging expression on his handsome face. His eyes are lined with crows feet and his cheeks are dimpled. Every couple of seconds he blinks extra hard, as if to clear his vision in order to better see the world in front of him. A light brown beard frames his smile. He carries himself with dignity, back straight, but posture betraying an open heart. She feels unexpectedly calmed by his presence. 

“Okay.”

He leads her to the confessional and lights the candles inside. Then he points for Juliana to enter one side, before she watches him enter the other. She takes a steadying breath before opening the door and sitting down. The decorative veiled grate and a half wall is all that separates them in the small space and it feels surprisingly safe instead of suffocating.

“Are you alright, señorita Juliana?”

“Yes, Padre.”

“Are you ready to get started?”

“Yes, Padre,” she says again, with less conviction than before.

“Do not fret, señorita, you will feel better for this.” He says with an even more soothing tone than he had outside the booth and, combined with the dim candlelight and faint scent of incense wafting through the room, Juliana feels herself relaxing. 

“What do I do now?”

“Now, we just talk. Tell me, how did you feel when you walked into Nuestra Señora de Compasión today?” 

“Anxious.” She finds herself wringing her hands together, her relaxed state immediately ruined.

“Anything else?”

“Guilty,” she admits, hanging her head.

“You are ashamed of something?” he guesses with accuracy.

Her voice is strained now, thick with emotion, “Yes, Padre.”

“You felt anxious because you believe yourself to be unforgivable.” It isn’t phrased as a question, and she nods her head solemnly, forgetting that he can’t see her. He takes her silence as confirmation anyway, “Juliana, no one is unforgivable, not even the worst of the worst of us. Each sin carries the same weight and none of us are free from it. The white lies I have told my wife are equivalent, in the eyes of God, to the fornication I committed in my youth,” he reveals, to Juliana’s shock. “We are human, and thus give some sins more weight than others. It is a failing we all share, but I can promise you that I am not here to judge you. This confessional is here for you to confess your sin, free yourself from your guilt, and move forward with your life. _Happy_,” He stresses, and she can hear the passion in his voice. __

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Juliana sighs. Happiness; it was an emotion that had eluded her all her life. Most of hers had been spent in survival mode. Keeping her papá content and distracted kept her bruise-free, more importantly kept her mamá bruise-free. It had also kept cheap, unfulfilling food on their table and a patched, leaky roof over their heads. Keeping him happy had been the only thing she could think about, his potential reactions constantly plaguing her mind. There had never been any time or consideration for her own feelings, she never had the luxury, but now… Maybe she can be free of it, of _him_.__

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Padre Reyes listens intently, she can tell because it’s quiet enough that she can hear his ‘hmms’ and ‘ahs’ as well as him scratching at his beard in thought. He listens so well that Juliana forgets that she’s telling everything to a priest, to a man of God. When she remembers where she is, she forces herself to push on through the jolt of anxiety. She tells him everything, from her circumstances growing up, to worshipping Santa Muerte, to her papá and his murders, to the crushing guilt at having ran away without stopping him. She doesn’t cry, just barely avoids it, because it just feels so _good_ to be saying the words out loud and not to some entity who likely doesn’t care about her anyway. Despite her efforts, her voice catches in her throat as she finishes, “I’m just… so sorry. To all the people he hurt, including me and my mamá.”__

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He takes a deep breath and he lets out a breathy chuckle. “You know, that is not what I expected from you, Señorita Juliana. That is my fault, though; I should have come into this with no expectations, but alas I am human.” Juliana can’t help but to laugh lightly at his playful tone. He is more serious as he continues, “There is a lot to that story and it will take time to address it all, if you’ll be patient with me. Juliana, you are an incredible person. You have had to endure some of the worst experiences that a person can go through. Being unable to trust the person who is raising you, having the responsibility of ensuring yours and your mamá’s safety at such a young age? Those shape a person, for good and for bad, and I’ve heard both in this confessional over the years. Allow me to reassure you, Juliana, you are not the latter.” He says this with such conviction that Juliana gasps with surprise. She had been expecting a reprimand, disappointment, anything but this. He continues without any indication that he heard her, “The guilt you carry is misplaced. You cannot let yourself feel guilty for someone else’s actions. Worrying about things out of your control is a common problem, and it seems to be what is tormenting you the most. From my understanding, you did not lift up the gun and pull the trigger, nor did you make him do so. Avoiding the pain you and your mamá would have undoubtedly suffered had you tried to stop him does not make you selfish, Juliana. You were protecting yourself and you have no reason to be ashamed of that.” 

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She begins to cry quietly, unable to take in what he’s trying to tell her, determined to be at fault somehow. Through her tears she confesses, “I prayed to Santa Muerte, Padre, even here in this sanctuary not twenty minutes ago.” He makes and acknowledging hum and it sounds like he taps his chin in thought.

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“Yes, I hadn’t gotten to that part yet. Please listen, praying to an unsanctioned Saint because it was all you were taught is, again, not something you should feel guilt over. When you arrived today, you might’ve already escaped the physical situation with your papá, but you were trapped there in your mind. Praying to her then is not a sin either, Juliana.” 

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She becomes desperate for the Padre to berate her, the only thing she’s used to, “But… but I don’t know if I really believe. Believe in her or God or Mary. No one came to my rescue even though I begged them. I had to rescue myself. For a while I thought maybe they just weren’t listening, but then I realized I must not be worth their help. I… didn’t have enough faith. Neta? I still don’t have faith that they’ll help me. They’re just as unreliable as my papá.” Juliana allows a portion of the bitterness she feels seep into her voice, it bubbles up from her stomach, coiling with anger. She tries to suppress the sneer creeping onto her face, afraid that Padre Reyes can see it through the grate. She hears him sigh deeply.

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“Why did you come here today?” Juliana can tell that he is holding in the rest of what he wants to say, so she answers quickly.

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“I… wanted to tell those who are dead that I’m sorry I didn’t help them.” She shrugs to herself, the idea falling more easily from her lips now that she’s said as much several times within the past half hour.

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“You came here for forgiveness. It’s why you prayed to Santa Muerte and it’s why you agreed to enter Confession with me.” He says it bluntly, and though it shouldn’t be a shock, Juliana feels as if she’s been hit by a truck. The wind is knocked clean out of her and she struggles to catch her breath. “I could preach to you endlessly about the presence of God being all around you always, or that _He_ was what gave you the strength to endure and eventually escape, but,” He pauses and sighs again, “if you don’t have faith, then those are empty promises from a man you just met. Instead, I am going to forgive you.__

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“You are forgiven, Juliana, on behalf of the lives taken by your papá and on behalf of God for your mistrust in him. The rest requires no forgiveness.” Juliana is crying again and he must be able to hear it because his voice softens when he continues, “The only thing I ask is that in return you work on forgiving God for not delivering you from your hardship sooner.” She nods again even though she knows he can’t see her. “Forgive Mary and Santa Muerte too, if that will make you feel better,” He tacks on at the end, the upturn of his lips evident in his tone.

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“Is that it?” Juliana says through a watery smile. 

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“Throw in a couple Hail Marys for good measure and we’re done. I think you have withstood enough for one day.” He laughs with her as they exit the booth. They meet face to face again and Juliana finds herself overcome with emotion. She walks up to him with the intention of wrapping him in a hug, but stops in her tracks when she realizes that might not be appropriate. She sticks out a hand to shake instead, which he grips in both of his and brings to his face for a feather-light and father-like kiss. His eyes crinkle at the corners, making his laugh lines more pronounced, and Juliana has never felt so comfortable around a man. It is clear to her now that he is trustworthy; in this case ‘devout’ _does_ equal ‘good.’ __

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“If it’s alright with you, I’m going to go pray some more,” She says jerking her thumb over her shoulder toward the pews.

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“What kind of priest would I be if I had a problem with that?” They both smile and he turns to walk away before he says over his shoulder, “I would love to see you at Mass this Sunday, nine o’clock sharp.” She just shakes her head, unsure if more religion so soon might be the death of her and walks to the nearest pew.

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She repeats everything she had done before, kneeling and adopting the classic praying hands, and then she’s stumped. She hadn’t tried to talk to God in years. She starts a couple sentences such as, “Hi, God, it’s me” and “I know it’s been a while…” but they seem hollow. She can’t even remember the Hail Mary. In her frustration she feels more tears slide down her cheeks and she slams her hands onto the back of the pew in front of her. As she opens her eyes, she hears a surprised squeak somewhere to her left. She whips her head around and is met with the back of a nun’s habit who seems to have been to be attempting to tip-toe past her toward the rows of candles situated at the front of the sanctuary.

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“Are you all born with the superhuman ability to sneak up on people or does it just come with the uniform?” Juliana says, sending a playful smile to the nun, who had yet to turn around.  
“Perdón,” the nun says and visibly winces before facing her. “You startled me, hitting the pew like that, I couldn’t contain it.” They make eye contact across the space between them and it takes a moment for Juliana to collect herself enough to respond.

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“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Juliana looks down from the nun’s unexpectedly blue stare. The nun makes her way over to her, habit flowing behind her graceful gait.

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“May I?” 

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At her request, Juliana finally looks up to see her standing by the pew gesturing to sit, “Claro que sí.” The nun pulls her habit beneath her as one might do with a dress and slides down next to Juliana, who takes this time to study the nun and comes to the obvious conclusion that she’s beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that she’s suddenly taken aback by the fact that she’s a nun. She could have anyone in the world love her, so why is she here? The girl also looks inexplicably troubled; it’s subtle, but glaringly apparent to someone like Juliana who had spent her life depending on her ability to read microexpressions. Lost in her reverie, Juliana doesn’t realize the nun is observing her in return. Blue eyes scan the entirety of her face.

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“You’ve been crying,” she states, “is it because you’re frustrated?” Juliana looks perplexed at her ability to read her. “You slammed your hands down before, that’s a good indicator of frustration,” She explains. Her accent is smooth and rich. Juliana finds she wants to hear more, so she just nods. “Would you like to tell me what is troubling you?”

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“I just poured my heart out in Confession with Padre Reyes, and I thought I’d pray about it. But I… don’t know how. I’ve forgotten,” She admits, looking down and feeling shame for the countless time since she first entered the cathedral. The nun nods in understanding.

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“It’s a learned skill. Talking to God can seem daunting at first, believe me, I struggled too. The Hail Marys helped.” She laughs lightly to herself, “That might have been the hardest part of this whole thing, to be honest.” She pinches the fabric of her habit at the knees and pulls it away from herself before letting go, signalling that she meant her life as a nun. Juliana watches in what seems like slow motion as the distressed look return to her face, more prominently than before.

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“If you’ll excuse my question, why did you choose to become a nun?”

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“It… wasn’t a choice, en serio,” she says with a huff, her expression becoming more annoyed as the seconds drag on. Juliana waits for her to continue. The nun takes a deep breath before she does, “I wasn’t living right, I didn’t have… an acceptable coping method, you could say.” Her tongue darts out the side of her mouth, further revealing her bitterness. It distracts Juliana more than it should, and she has to lightly shake her head to bring herself back to the words being spoken to her. “...and this is where my hermana put me.” Although tears brim in her eyes at the admission, she seems resigned to her life within the house of God. 

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“Oh, I’m so sorry. I asked about you and all I’m doing is talking about myself.” She shakes her head too. “I haven’t asked your name, my manners have forsaken me.” She brings a hand to her chest in disappointment in herself, which causes Juliana to smile.

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“Juliana.” A hand reaches forward in fresh greeting.

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“Valentina.” Their hands meet in the middle and smiles grow on both their faces, until Juliana turns bashful at the length of contact between them. With a soft blush, she pulls her hand free from Valentina’s. “If you come to Mass on Sunday, I can help you with your prayer?” she says, hopeful rise to her tone.

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“I’m not sure…” Juliana rubs at her neck, first blush fading, but a new embarrassment creeping up her face. 

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“Por favor,” Valentina pleads pulling Juliana’s free hand into her own. “I have only just met you, but I feel like we are destined to be friends.” This disclosure dazes Juliana, and it’s only with another whispered ‘por fa’ that she comes back to herself.

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“Okay, I’ll be here.” Valentina’s excited squeal in response makes Juliana smile again.

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“Okay! Nine o’clock sharp,” Valentina says pointing an accusatory finger toward her, already worried over her potentially late arrival.

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“So I’ve been told,” Juliana responds with an outright laugh this time. Valentina moves the hand still gripping Juliana’s up her arm to squeeze her forearm once before letting go. The spot tingles.

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“I’ll be expecting you.” Valentina stands slowly, adjusting her habit once more before she steps out into the aisle, beginning to walk to the front of the sanctuary. She stops briefly to turn and say, “It was lovely to meet you, Juliana.” The sound of Valentina’s smooth tenor saying her name sends a shiver down Juliana’s spine.

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“It was nice to meet you too, Valentina.” Juliana stands as well, and starts walking in the opposite direction, toward the exit. They both turn to look over their shoulders at the same time and they catch each other’s gaze before Juliana turns fully to the heavy wooden door. She struggles to keep the smile off her face.

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The sunshine greets her, all too bright, and turns her smile into a wince as her puffy eyes adjust. She glances up at the spires again and heaves a sigh. She’ll be seeing them again soon enough.

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	2. the purest expression of grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title - Foreigner's God by Hozier

Valentina is lying face down on her bed, her _cot_. It doesn’t deserve to be called a bed. It is far too uncomfortable for that title. She sighs and brings her hands up to pillow under her forehead so she can breathe again. One month, one whole month she’s been cooped up in this place. _Cloistered_, the Sisters would call it. More like imprisoned. Valentina sighs once more before pushing herself up off her cot, if she stays there too long, they’ll make her wash the bedclothes in atonement for committing the sin of sloth. She sits on the edge and runs her hands down her face. She needs to call Eva.____

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Walking to the door, Valentina has to consciously shake off her forlorn posture before she exits the room. She supposes that this isn’t the worst convent to have ended up in. The walls are the same stone they’d been made out of originally, and that would have given it a dark and dank look, but over time the Sisters had painted them a pale yellow and adorned them with a mural of flowers in a stripe along the middle. It is a quite welcoming look, in fact, but that doesn’t fool Valentina. It’s still a prison, just a pretty one.

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Finally she reaches the small room off the main hallway that has the one phone. It’s old, like everything else in this place. Valentina doesn’t think she’s seen a corded landline in over fifteen years, and this one is the same muted green color that was popular in the seventies. She picks it up, poorly disguising her disgust, and dials Eva’s number--it’s a miracle she remembers it at all. She waits for the call to go through and begins impatiently wrapping the coiled cord of the phone around her finger several times before letting go, on repeat.

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“Valentina,” Eva chides, already disappointed in her and she hasn’t even said anything yet.

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“What?” Valentina says, the challenge evident in her tone.

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“This is not a scheduled call time, did you have to sneak around to do this?” There it is, the inevitable accusation. Valentina can’t stand her.

__

“No, I didn’t _sneak_,” she can’t keep her voice calm, “I can call when I want, Eva.”__

_ _ __ _ _

“Oh, really? So I should mention this conversation to Mother Superior, then?” Eva says, haughty like everything else about her. Valentina stays silent. “I didn’t think so. Now what do you want, Vale?”

_ _ __ _ _

Valentina nearly hangs up the phone on principle, but pinches the bridge of her nose instead and remembers why she’s calling, “I need to come home, Eva.”

_ _ __ _ _

“You’ve barely been there a month, hermanita. You are not trying hard enough.” That’s what it always is with Eva, effort. If you haven’t poured every ounce of energy into something, then you aren’t trying. It enrages Valentina and she has to work even harder to keep the bitterness from her voice.

_ _ __ _ _

“I _have_ been trying, Eva, and I’m better. It’s been a very long month and I’m better now. I can come home.” This time, Eva sighs in response. Her voice falls from the defensive tone it previously held, betraying some of the emotion Eva must be feeling about the whole situation.__

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

“Vale, it will take longer than a month for you to get better. I’m sorry, I really am. We’ve fought about this, but I hope you know that I did not want to put my hermanita into a convent. I hope you know that.” Her voice breaks just the slightest bit before she pulls herself back together, into who she always is, “Just keep working at it. The harder you work, the faster you can come home.”

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

Valentina exhales. She catches glimpses of Eva’s compassion sometimes and that is what makes it all the more frustrating when she clearly shoves that down in order to be… well, Eva. “Fine. Goodbye, Evangelina,” Valentina hangs up, knowing that using her hermana’s full name will let Eva know exactly how she’s feeling about her. The coiled phone cord she had pulled out snaps back into place with finality.

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

The most infuriating thing is Eva is right and Valentina knows it. She had told Eva one month, but that wasn’t even true. Sure, she’s been stuck in the convent for that long, however, in her first week, Valentina had snapped under the pressure and snuck into the closet full of communion wine. By the time one of the Sisters had found her, she was drunker than she had been in weeks and on the edge of unconsciousness. She was dragged to the showers and she awoke to her worst nightmare, yelling and begging for the Sister not to tell Mother Superior, not to call Eva. The woman, Sister Pimelea, had reluctantly agreed only if _she_ agreed not to touch another drop of alcohol throughout her stay. Valentina hasn’t thus far, and she’s entirely indebted to Sister Pimelea for that.  
She checks on Valentina often--not in the same way that Eva or Mother Superior might, with accusations--but instead with love and sympathy. It reminds her of Chivis or Lucía. Valentina can tell that Sister Pimelea actually cares about her wellbeing, and was truly horrified at finding her nearly unconscious on the floor. Because of that, though, she’s getting better. She can recover at _home_.____

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“God!” She shouts in frustration, pounding a fist onto the side table the phone rests on. “God, please, I just need to go home,” She whispers desperately to the ceiling, tears beginning to spill down her cheeks. “I do the Hail Marys, I do these menial chores, I haven’t drank anything in weeks, what more do I have to do?” She can feel herself spiralling, “I don’t want to be here anymore, I just want it to stop…” She wants to lose herself in some mezcal.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Instead of continuing to wallow in her emotions, she wipes the evidence of them from her cheeks, stands abruptly and quickly exits the small room. She pushes everything down and decides to seek out Sister Pimelea. She takes the hallway at a run and is out of breath by the time she makes it to her room. She finds the other nun at her small, plain desk, embroidering her namesake onto a white pillow. Valentina smiles at how calm she feels just watching her. It doesn’t last long though before Pimelea hears her catching her breath. She waves her in and motions for her to sit on the side of her bed. It takes Valentina back to how she sat upon her own bed earlier, and she mimics her past self, running her hands down her face once again. Pimelea raises her eyebrows at her once she looks up to make eye contact. Valentina bares her soul to her.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I wanted to drink,” Valentina looks away ashamed of herself, “she drives me to drinking.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Your hermana?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Yes! She’s so overbearing and she expects me to be perfect and I just couldn’t take it. I… wanted to forget everything. Forget why I’m here.” She wishes she could play with her hair, but it’s locked away behind the stupid veil. Instead, she starts picking at a thread on her habit near where the print of her knee shows through.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“And why are you here, Sister Valentina?” Sister Pimelea’s tone is even and calm and that’s the only thing that keeps Valentina together.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Her voice is small as she answers, “I’m a failure… I let my family down.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“How so?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Valentina takes a long breath before responding, her shame melting into another bout of anger, “I got so drunk that my hermana had to call in a favor to get me locked up like a feral dog.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ever patient, Sister Pimelea doesn’t speak again until the scowl that had crept onto Valentina’s face ebbs away. “I want you to take a moment and think about what I am going to ask you,” Valentina nods, “is being here helping you?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Her mouth opens immediately to answer in the negative, but she closes it just as quickly and does try to think it through. At home, she had been so lonely and depressed after her papá had passed that she didn’t want to get better. She hadn’t been able to face the day without being inebriated. The alcohol was the only thing that got her out of bed so she could see her family and her boyfriend, but after she fell into the pool while drunk she ended up losing both. They were essentially absent in her life by that point anyway, believing she should have been able to move past the loss after what seemed like only a week. Wasted had been the only way she could pretend she had, however, nearly drowning had been the last straw and Eva had forced her here. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It still feels unfair to her now, but Valentina knows she would have only found death at the bottom of a bottle had she stayed. Here she has accountability, she has Sister Pimelea, a reason to not drink. It’s not God, she knows that for sure, but it feels like a different kind of expectation. Unlike Eva, Sister Pimelea has a kinder way of expecting her to do the right thing. Like she knows Valentina has had it in her all along.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Yes. I don’t want to drink as much anymore. This place has given me another chance and if papá were here…” She stumbles over the past tense even still, “I would want him to look at what I’m doing and be proud of me.” Tears spring to her eyes and she blinks them away. When she finally looks back at her companion, she is met with a beaming smile. Valentina gives her a watery smile in return.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I want you to know that _I_ am very proud of you. Because the urge you felt could have overtaken you, but you fought it instead. And because you took the time to consider your feelings instead of losing yourself to them,” Sister Pimelea says, lightly placing a hand onto Valentina’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. Valentina takes stock of just how proud she looks; her plump cheeks are rosier and her sincere, dark eyes shine at her.__

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I don’t feel proud of myself, but thank you, Sister.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You should! Recognizing that you have a reason, however small, to stay sober is an important step in your recovery. You have already come such a long way.” The warm smile on Sister Pimelea’s face is so heartfelt that Valentina can’t look at her.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I lied to Eva. I told her I’m ready to come home when I know that’s not true.” Sister Pimelea nods. “I can’t tell if that’s me being desperate for the freedom to drink again,” Valentina says, eyebrows scrunching in the effort it takes to piece together her own motivations, “or for the freedom from the responsibility that comes with being sober.” 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I would agree that you aren’t ready to leave us quite yet, Sister,” Sister Pimelea says with a placating smile. She stands and goes to sit next to Valentina on the bed so she is no longer leaning across the space. She places a hand on Valentina’s knee and squeezes, “You are making progress though. You are not the person who first walked these halls and you aren’t the person I found in the storage room a few weeks ago.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Despite the words of comfort, Valentina recoils at the reminder of how they had become close. “I am not any good at this, Sister Pimelea,” Valentina hangs her head, “I’m supposed to be finding peace through God to cope with my grief, but I’m still just as sad as I was when I arrived here. Probably even more so,” She drops her head into her hands, her elbows supporting her on her knees. Sister Pimelea reaches over and rubs at Valentina’s back and tuts at her in disappointment. With her free hand she pulls at one of Valentina’s, uncovering her face. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Perhaps it is time for us to prepare for Mass?” Valentina checks her watch, nearly seven thirty, they’ll have to rush to help the other Sisters get ready.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Yes, Sister.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Valentina and Sister Pimelea complete their duties quickly, the latter much more practiced than the former. Valentina has needed reminding and direction the whole duration of her stay, mostly because she doesn’t really care to learn the ways of the Order. She continues to hope she won’t be here long. She isn’t used to working with her hands, and that means her dexterity and reflexes aren’t what they should be. She fumbles at creating the floral arrangement for the altar, she has to redo everything she’s asked to clean several times, and polishing the wood of the pews, she decides, must be her own personal hell. Finally, the time arrives where she and the rest of the Sisters can change their habits to ones without sweat and polish stains.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

She arrives in her room once more and begins washing her hands of the wretched smell that had accumulated during her labor. She winces at the stinging she feels as the water and soap rub into cuts she’d gotten while trying to pin the flowers to the stand. With a sigh, she looks up into the mirror and Valentina sees herself clearly. She hasn’t worn make-up in a month and while her skin looks better for it, her eyes seem sunken to her. Bags hang under them, a sight she hates because it gives away exactly how poorly she’s been sleeping. She doesn’t understand how these nuns wake up at four thirty every morning; it’s practically torture. She rolls her eyes at her reflection and splashes water onto her face before facing the room and shucking off her habit. The weird uniform is Valentina’s least favorite part of her situation. She can pray all day long, try her best at the chores, and even wake up so early, but the thick, scratchy, especially _hot_ habit will surely be the death of her.__

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

By the time she finishes, her watch reads eight fifty. She needs to jog now in her ugly and annoyingly practical footwear to be able to make it to the sanctuary on time. She comes to an abrupt stop right before she gets to the doors so that it doesn’t appear that she’s been in a hurry--she really doesn’t need yet another lesson on why hurrying is temptation from the devil. She clicks open the large door and steps quietly into the room. Doing so makes her think of the girl she met the other day, who made the joke about all servants of God being so quiet. The memory makes her smile and she wonders if she’ll actually see the girl here today. _Juliana_, she reminds herself. __

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Valentina is about to slide into her seat with her Sisters above the pulpit when she spots her. Juliana’s hair is up in a ponytail and she’s wearing a lovely, flowing button-up red dress with dark and light patterns dancing across it. Once Valentina’s eyes make it up to her face, she sees that she’s being stared at in return. She beams a genuine smile back in Juliana’s direction before she settles in for the Mass.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

She hopes none of the Sisters catch onto the fact that she hasn’t paid a single bit of attention for the past half hour. She’s gone back and forth between staring off into space and sneaking peeks at Juliana. The poor girl seems so lost. Her eyebrows are constantly knit together in confusion and Valentina doesn’t blame her. All the ritual back and forth between the priest and the congregation is convoluted and she hates it. She can’t even remember half the things to say and she’s been _living_ it for a month. She decides she will actually give Juliana that lesson on prayer instead of it being an originally hollow offer. Just because she doesn’t believe in it doesn’t mean it won’t help Juliana.__

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Valentina passes on the Communion, thankful as always that she has wine as an excuse, and she can’t help but notice that Juliana does as well. It’s not uncommon, so it shouldn’t mean anything, but it gets her thinking. She wonders if it has anything to do with why Juliana had been here when she first met her.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The Mass ends with all the pomp and circumstance with which it had begun, and as Valentina goes in search of Juliana, she spots her speaking with the priest. She has a shy smile on her face and is tucking her hair behind her ear. Valentina narrows her eyes; this is not the first time she has seen someone be so taken with this priest. He is objectively handsome with big blue eyes, and a loving smile. She hopes that Juliana’s interest is only surface level. Shaking her head free of the thoughts, she walks up to the pair just as he pats Juliana’s hand and walks away.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Sister… Valentina?” Juliana accurately guesses with a friendly smile. Valentina is happy that she remembered.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Sí. It’s nice to see you again Juliana,” Valentina wraps her in a hug before she realizes that Juliana has remained stiff. “Ay, perdón.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Juliana laughs as she’s released, “No one but my mother has hugged me in a while, sorry, I’m not used to it.” She shrugs in indifference and Valentina is rightfully horrified.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Oh, I cannot imagine what that must be like. Here,” She leans in and gives Juliana another quick hug. She pulls back to a bright smile on Juliana’s face and she feels proud to have put it there. Linking their arms together, Valentina drags them off, “Walk with me.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Where are we going?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Valentina pulls them to and fro, through the throng of people still loitering after the sermon, and toward a door to the side of the sanctuary. Once she’s pushed them through it she answers the question, “I could barely think with all those people echoing in there. Anyway, I’m here to offer my services in teaching you to pray, if you’re willing?” Valentina pulls the hand she’s grasping even closer in her pleading.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Juliana looks down between them and then back up at her. She half rolls her eyes before nodding with an attempt to hide her smile. Valentina drags them further from the church, now following the halls into the convent. She leads them to her room and the whole way there she can see how distracted Juliana is by the mural on the walls.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Valentina gets them settled on her cot and pauses to think. She glances around the room before she realizes what she needs. She grabs a spare plain wooden rosary and then she rummages through her side table for a pen and notepad. She peeks at Juliana while she’s preparing and sees that she hasn’t moved an inch, just patiently watching, waiting for Valentina to finish. The attention warms her to the point of blushing.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Okay, I think I’m ready.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Estas seguro?” Juliana says, playful lilt to her tone. Valentina just scrunches her nose at her and returns to her place next to Juliana on the cot.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“This is a rosary.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Juliana fully rolls her eyes at her this time, “Yes, I know that much.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Sorry! I’m starting from the beginning!” Valentina laughs and it breaks Juliana’s serious expression, another thing she’s proud of. “Okay, okay, how about I list things and you tell me if you know them or not?” Juliana gives her an encouraging nod.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You know what rosaries are, but do you know how they work?” Valentina lifts her eyebrows in mock challenge.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You say the Hail Mary for each bead, right?” She can tell Juliana isn’t confident in her answer.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Valentina’s mouth pulls to the side, sad she has to give a negative answer, “Unfortunately, like everything in Catholicism, it’s not that simple. You have to hold the cross in this hand,” she hands the rosary to Juliana who takes it gingerly, “And say the Apostle’s Creed. Then you hold this bigger bead in the other and say an Our Father. _Then_ you say the Hail Mary for each of the smaller beads.” Juliana already looks lost like she did back in the sanctuary. Valentina lowers her hands, “Don’t worry, we'll go over all that stuff in a minute.” She reaches for the notepad in order to begin transcribing the prayers for Juliana to take home. __

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Juliana fully takes the rosary in her own hands and looks at it intently. Valentina is immediately overcome with the need to know what’s happening behind her dark eyes.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“What are you thinking?” Valentina says and has to will her hand not to shoot to her mouth. She hadn’t meant to ask, it had slipped out without her permission.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I… I’m wondering if it’s worth it.” Her eyes fall closed and she drops her head to Valentina‘s dismay. She can no longer see the emotion flash across Juliana’s face which means she can’t help her, so she reaches over and tentatively touches her knee to bring her back to the conversation. Juliana whips her head up to lock gazes and Valentina watches as the initial panic at being touched melts into relief. She files _that_ reaction away for later. __

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You can talk to me, Juliana. I might be here,” she gestures around them, “but I understand what it’s like to wonder the same thing,” She offers a small half smile, hoping Juliana will feel safe enough to continue sharing. Juliana lets out a shaky breath before she speaks again, as if she’d barely been holding herself together. Valentina realizes that’s probably true. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I don’t know how to do any of this, but I feel like I have to learn. I owe it to the people I’ve hurt.” A tear slips down Juliana’s cheek unnoticed. Valentina’s eyebrows knit together in scepticism; she can’t imagine Juliana being the cause of someone’s pain, but she listens anyway. “I must pay penance. And if that means learning this confusing form of prayer, then so be it.” She wipes away the tear and straightens her back, clearly ready to shoulder the cross she has built for herself. Valentina stares at her, heartbroken. She doesn’t want this for Juliana. No one should have to put themselves through this for some twisted sense of duty. Her lip curls at the thought.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“No.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Juliana looks taken aback and finally makes eye contact with her again. The look on her face is challenging. “What do you mean, no?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I mean ‘no,’” Valentina says, “Take it from me, Juliana, you cannot force yourself to do this. If it isn’t there, deep in your heart, then you shouldn’t do it. I feel like that’s something a lot of these Sisters and Padres could take to heart too, actually.” She can’t keep the judgmental look off her face when she thinks about the hypocrisy within even her own congregation. To her surprise, Juliana starts openly crying.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Oh, Juliana, no. Please don’t cry. That wasn’t meant for you. I have harbored some... harsh opinions toward my fellow clergy men and women and it has nothing to do with you, perdón,” Valentina reaches around her shoulder and hugs Juliana to her then wipes at a fresh tear spilling over her lashes. “Perdoname, por favor,” She squeezes her harder, but Juliana just nods blankly in response and Valentina knows she needs to do more to fix this.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Let me try again…” She taps her cheek with the hand she doesn’t have around Juliana, “So I’m trying to say that forcing yourself to complete these ritualistic prayers will not force you into believing. If you don’t believe, then you don’t.” Her shrug is maimed by her posture, but she tacks on for Juliana’s benefit, “And if you aren’t sure, then all the Hail Marys in the world won’t help you figure it out. These prayers are just reminders for the faithful.”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Ugh!” Juliana exclaims--to Valentina’s shock--and slaps the back of her hands down onto her thighs, the rosary beads clattering together loudly in the small space. “This is all so confusing! If I can’t even say the Hail Mary, then what am I supposed to do? I’ve tried talking to God and to Mary, but the only person I’ve been able to pray to…” Juliana cuts herself off abruptly, leaving Valentina dazed for the second time in seconds. She jumps at the chance to learn more about Juliana.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Who have you been able to pray to?” Valentina asks softly, rubbing her thumb across Juliana’s shoulder. Juliana takes a deep breath and the anger from moments ago visibly fades into pain, her eyes squeezing shut.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Santa Muerte…” She whispers and it takes everything in Valentina to temper her reaction. Her body freezes and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but only for a moment. She hopes Juliana doesn’t notice.

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“Oh…” Valentina only knows that Saint to be followed by people in same-sex relationships who have been shunned by the church. She figures this must be what Juliana is struggling with, why she didn’t take Communion, and makes the split-second decision that it doesn’t matter to her. She resolves to help this girl regardless.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I know, she’s unsanctioned and I shouldn’t pray to her, but,” Juliana trails off again and this time it’s her who shrugs. Valentina’s hand slips from Juliana’s shoulder to her back, rubbing in small circles, the way Sister Pimelea had done for her.

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“No, no, shh,” Valentina says, finally finding her voice, “listen, if she helps you, then by all means. Prayer, for most, is just the holiest way to be heard.” Juliana leans her head onto her shoulder and nods. Valentina smiles into her hair, happy to have been able to provide this girl refuge.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Juliana sighs and wipes at her eyes before pulling away. “I uh-I think that’s all I can handle in one lesson,” She says through a watery smile. Valentina pats her back one more time before dropping her hand onto her cot. Juliana looks briefly lost as she goes to stand and she realizes she’s still holding the rosary.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Keep it,” Valentina offers immediately, “No really.” She stands and pushes Juliana’s outstretched hand holding the rosary back into her chest. “You don’t know; it might help you. And maybe you can figure out how it can be used with Santa Muerte?” She shrugs.

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Juliana huffs, but it breaks into a small smile at the look of sincere support on Valentina’s face, and Valentina thinks she should really start keeping a tally of how proud she is to have made this girl happy. 

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“You are the strangest nun I’ve ever seen,” Juliana says, eyeing her up and down, “You have to tell me your story one day.”  
Valentina pulls her into a short hug, overwhelmed with her emotions when she hears a ‘thank you’ whispered into her hair. She tugs her in more tightly for just a moment before letting go of everything but her arm, which she slips her own through at the elbow.

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“Next time,” Valentina says with a rueful smile and inclines her head to the door, “Let me walk you out.”

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“Okay,” Juliana says, shaking her head. Valentina knows she’s a bit of a rollercoaster of emotion, but she won’t apologize for it if that particular character flaw helps her connect with someone in need. Maybe this whole nun thing is rubbing off on her more than she originally thought.

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They make their way to the entrance and Juliana finally pulls her arm free of Valentina’s, only to grasp her hand lightly in her own, “Seriously, Sister Valentina, thank you so much.” Valentina’s nose scrunches again.

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“Please, call me Valentina, or Val. As long as we aren’t around the rest of them.” She motions toward the inside of the church and she sees Juliana catch her meaning.

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“Ah, of course. Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble,” Juliana says teasingly, leaning against the dark frame of the front doors.

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“No, they’re awful when you break the rules, you have no idea.” This time it’s Valentina who sends Juliana a playful smile. “Come back next week? Por fa?” Valentina asks softly. Juliana exaggerates taking a minute to think about it and Valentina slaps her lightly on her forearm.

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“Of course I’ll be back next week,” She leans in conspiratorially, “Valentina.” Valentina beams at her. “Besides, next time it’s your turn to talk,” Juliana says pointedly before turning and tip-tapping her way down the steps and onto the sidewalk.

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Valentina watches her from the doorway until she disappears.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> both of my hands are cramping and i'm stressing about this chapter. please let me know if you enjoyed it! <3


	3. i'll be around to guide you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title - Crosses by José Gonzales

The sun rises over the skyline and bathes Juliana in warm, yellow light. It almost makes the sleep clinging to her eyes bearable. Juliana approaches the cathedral carefully balancing two coffees and her purse, which is made difficult by the stiffness in her hands from having worked her sewing machine all night. Her mamá had needed her to finish up some pieces to sell so they could eat. The job had taken longer than they expected and it wasn’t long ago that she finally laid her head down to sleep.

She shakes off a shiver of apprehension as she walks through the entrance; she’s been here a few times now, but she can’t seem to get over that feeling. It’s early, too early for her liking, and the rooms are dark. She remembers what Valentina told her the last time, to meet her in the phone room in the side hallway branching off the center of the sanctuary, so she quietly heads in that direction. 

“Señorita Juliana?”

Clearly she’s not as sneaky as she thought. She turns to see Padre Reyes sitting on one of the pews, head turned in her direction.

“Uh, sí. Buen dia, Padre.”

“You are here,” he shakes his sleeve back to check his watch, “far too early for Mass! What brings you to us as the sun rises?”

Juliana walks slowly toward him, away from her goal. “Sister Valentina has been helping me with my prayer. I thought I would return the favor by bringing her coffee, since I know the Sisters wake up so early.” She sees his eyes light up at her words.

“That’s very kind of you. And of Sister Valentina to help you in that way.” He smiles proudly and looks off into the distance for a moment before turning back to her, “Well, I better let you go or else those will get cold.”

“Thank you, Padre. I’ll see you for Mass.” She raises the cup in her right hand in acknowledgement.

“Until then, Señorita.”

Juliana slips through the side door with a final nod to him and starts down the hallway. She takes her time and moves closer to the wall to better admire the flowers painted delicately along them. Some of them had been here a while, she could tell, and others had been painted more recently. The artistry behind them is obvious to her. There are dahlias and sunflowers and frangipani, all flowers native to México, as well as foreign plants like plumerias and pimeleas. The flowers are all connected by thin swirling lines that contrasts well with the yellow background. It makes her wonder who had taken the time to paint these so small and colorful. She makes a mental note to ask Valentina when she sees her.

She takes the final turn into the small room where Valentina had told her to meet. The room is empty and Juliana has to swallow the disappointment at not being greeted with Valentina’s bright smile. There’s a phone sitting on a side table against the wall and she pulls one of the chairs away from it and takes a seat. She sets the coffees on the table and reaches to pull the other chair out so Valentina will have a seat when she arrives.

Sipping on her coffee she allows her mind to wander while she waits. The last time she had come, they hadn’t been able to speak alone, only in hushed whispers after Mass. They planned then for Juliana to come before Mass this week so they could actually talk again. Juliana finds herself impatient, her knee bouncing repeatedly under the table. Maybe it’s the caffeine. Finally, Valentina bursts through the door, wisps of her hair falling free of her veil.

“Juliana! Perdón! I couldn’t slip away from communal breakfast. I got caught up listening to old Sister Mathilda drone on and on about how the food here used to be better twenty years ago.” She rolls her eyes at the memory and drops heavily into her seat. Juliana watches her with amusement as Valentina’s eyes fall on the coffee in her hands and then move to the coffee sitting in front of her. 

“It’s for you.” She reaches over and nudges it toward Valentina with her knuckles.

“Thank you!” Valentina says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but you gave me the rosary,” she pats the purse in which it rests, “and your time. It’s a thank you. For listening. For helping me.”

Valentina reaches to grab hold of the hand Juliana had left resting on the table. “It really is no trouble at all. We’re friends now. This is what friends do.” She squeezes her hand once and then lets it go in favor of grabbing her coffee cup enthusiastically with both hands. She takes a large sip and hums pleasurably. 

Juliana has to look away, a smile teasing at the corner of her lips. She’s secretly thrilled that this has been a success. She hadn’t even been sure Valentina liked coffee, but there’s no mistaking the look of contentment on her face. She fights a blush as she purses her lips together; she doesn’t want to give away how she’s feeling to Valentina. Is it _normal_ to be this happy to make someone else happy? Is this why people always say they are happy just giving to others? She’s been generous before, but this feels different. In a nervous tic, she reaches up and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear which captures Valentina’s attention.__

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Valentina gives her a fond smile and sets her coffee down, thumb playing with the edge of its cardboard sleeve. She licks her lips of the drops of coffee that cling to them and settles into her chair more comfortably. For some reason Juliana begins to sweat, suddenly anxious to talk to her new friend.

“Thank you for the coffee, it’s very good. I also haven’t had coffee in over a month so I’m desperate.” Valentina laughs at herself and the warmth of it breaks Juliana from her stiff posture. She can’t help but to laugh with her.

After a beat of silence Juliana clears her throat and speaks, “So, I think you owe me a bit of background. To make up for me embarrassing myself last time.” She tries to suppress the wry smile  
that crosses her face because she knows her words will cause a reaction in Valentina. She’s right. 

Valentina’s eyes widen and she gasps. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed! Working through this stuff is hard, and honestly I made you cry, so if anyone is going to be embarrassed, it’s me.”  
“Well, to make up for making me cry then,” Juliana says, gesturing for Valentina to begin.

Valentina must know she’s teasing her because her tongue darts out the side of her mouth playfully before she reaches to bring her coffee to her lips. She narrows her eyes at Juliana over the rim of the cup and clears her throat as she sets it down.

“I guess I should make it up to you, shouldn’t I?” Juliana nods. “Okay, what did you want to know?”

Juliana absentmindedly spins her finger around the rim of her cup while she thinks about how to word her question. “How did you come to be here? I remember you said something about your sister?” She sees Valentina shift uncomfortably and she already regrets asking.

“Um… well I did tell you this was my sister’s idea. There’s more to it than that.” She takes a long pull of her coffee in nervousness.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Juliana is quick to say. She doesn’t actually want to put Valentina through any stress, despite her joking.

“It’s okay,” Valentina gives her a small smile, “I want to tell you. Friends tell each other things, even if it’s hard. You told me some hard things last time and it helped, didn’t it?” She waits for Juliana’s affirmative nod. “I haven’t been able to really talk about it much, so I should probably try.” Valentina’s fingers are shaking lightly, so she splays them out flat on the table in front of her.

“Take your time,” Juliana says with an encouraging smile.

Valentina takes a deep breath and dives straight in. “My papá died. A few months ago.” 

Juliana sees how her mouth pulls to the side with the effort of restraining her emotions. It breaks her heart. “That’s awful, I’m so sorry.” She reaches her hand out to cover one of Valentina’s on the table; she can feel the tremble in it so she strokes her thumb over her knuckles.

“It gets worse, if you can believe it.” A humorless smile flits across her face before she continues with a tired sigh, “He was killed, stabbed, at his own wedding. In front of everyone.” She closes her eyes and Juliana knows she’s reliving the moment. She taps her thumb against her hand to get her attention.

“You saw?”

She nods, “We watched him die, my siblings and I, and I haven’t been able to forget.” Valentina finally opens her eyes and Juliana looks into them. She can see the turmoil swimming in the bright blue, made even bluer by the tears threatening to spill over long lashes.

“I can’t imagine how you and your family must feel.” She lifts Valentina’s hand from the table to hold it in both of hers, still stroking it with her thumb.

Valentina lets out a dry laugh, to Juliana’s surprise. “Well my family and I feel differently about it. My siblings act as if nothing has happened and they expect me to do the same.” 

“What? I don’t understand.” Juliana’s confusion has her eyebrows pulling together.

“I guess I didn’t quite start at the beginning… I didn’t want you to see me differently.” She looks at Juliana sheepishly. “I’m a Carvajal. My family, I mean. We’re the _Carvajals_.” She says it with a hint of shame and Juliana can’t figure out why.__

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“I feel like I should know what that means, but I don’t.” Valentina’s genuine, surprised laugh bubbles out of her abruptly, causing Juliana to jump slightly in her seat. Her peals of joy ring loudly in the room and Juliana begins to feel like she’s being laughed at. “Hey, I’ve only been in the country for a few weeks. I don’t know much about México…” 

Valentina’s laughter peters off and she looks curiously at Juliana. “Really? You have only been here that long?” 

“Yes,” Juliana says defensively. She starts to pull her hands away, but Valentina grasps them in her own before she can.

“No, please, I wasn’t laughing at you. I was excited about my good fortune. To have met someone who doesn’t know who I am? It’s a blessing,” Valentina says, shaking her head in wonder. Juliana cocks one eyebrow at her, a request for further explanation. “Grupo Carvajal owns most of the media outlets in México. Since my family founded it and owns it, we are the wealthiest family in the country.” Again, Juliana can see the shame in the way she ducks her head and crinkles her eyebrows. She realizes Valentina is not proud of this fact about herself. She’s not bragging, and with the way she reacted to Juliana not knowing this about her, she knows Valentina would have rather not told her at all.

“If you’re worried I’m going to judge you, I promise I’m not,” Juliana says with sincerity. “I really don’t know what to say, but I’m not judging you.”

“Thank you. Don’t worry about what to say yet because I have more.”

“No way.”

“Of course I have more. We haven’t even gotten to how I’m here yet,” Valentina says, gesturing to the room.

“Right. You don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.”

“I do,” Valentina says, “This might be the hardest part though.”

“I’m patient,” Juliana assures her. Valentina’s face softens at her words and she takes a steadying breath.

“Well, now you know who my family are, so it should make more sense. My siblings have an enormous company to run by themselves now, no more papá to guide them. They became so busy with it that they forgot to grieve. Or maybe that’s how they coped with it, I don’t know.”

“That’s so sad, Val.” Juliana pouts in solidarity with Valentina’s sorrow. “Were you not involved in the company?”

“No, I was still in school, being groomed to join them when I graduated. I ended up taking the rest of the semester off so I wouldn’t have to worry about my grades, but that made it worse. I was left alone.”

“You didn’t have anyone?” Juliana asks, stricken.

“Not really. Everyone was doing their own thing and they expected me to follow along behind them, but I never really caught up.” She shrugs in forced nonchalance. “I um… didn’t handle it well.”

Juliana is almost afraid to ask, “How do you mean?”

“I-I um…” Valentina clears her throat, “I started drinking.” The sudden understanding dawns on Juliana’s face and it’s obvious, but she can’t help it. Valentina must have seen it, but she trudges on anyway, “I depended on the mezcal to help me live the way I had before my papá passed. Then,” she takes a short pause, “I nearly drowned in our pool. That was when my hermana decided that I needed help.” 

Juliana watches Valentina’s tongue push at the inside of her cheek in annoyance. She really doesn’t know how to respond and her mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air.

“It’s okay,” Valentina says softly, her expression shifting from annoyed to understanding more quickly than Juliana can follow. “I know it’s a lot. Now it’s my turn to say take your time.”

“My papá is gone too. He... was electrocuted.” Juliana says apathetically. She doesn’t know where it comes from, but she rolls with it. Valentina deserves honesty after opening herself up like that and Juliana figures this is as close as she can get.

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“Neta. My mamá and I watched it happen.” Juliana shrugs, but internally she’s surprised at herself. Normally she wouldn’t tell a soul. Nothing about this feels normal, though. With Valentina, it doesn’t feel like a big deal. “It was a few months ago. That’s why we came to México; it was too risky to stay in Texas.” Juliana silently curses herself for even slightly revealing the danger they'd been in.

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“Oh that’s terrible, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Valentina pushes her empty cup out of the way so that she can lean even further across the table toward her in a comforting gesture.

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“Don’t be. I’m not. I didn’t want to see it, but I don’t grieve for him, either. He was trash.” Her lip curls and for a passing moment she has the impulse to spit at his memory.

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“Wow,” Valentina says in surprise at the bitterness lacing Juliana’s voice.

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“I know.”

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“Wait,” Valentina says suddenly, sitting up straight again and flattening her hands on the table. Juliana panics, thinking she’s about to realize they shouldn’t be friends after all. “Are you serious? We even have the deaths of our papás in common. Can you believe that?” Valentina lets out a small, incredulous laugh and covers her face with a hand. Juliana, now assured that Valentina still wants to be friends, can’t help but to laugh with her in relief.

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“That is kind of crazy,” Juliana says strained, not able to fully catch her breath.

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“More than crazy! This is like, fate or something.” Valentina slumps down to rest her head in one hand supported by her elbow on the table. Her eyes rake over Juliana’s face for a long moment. Her intense gaze causes Juliana’s smile to drop slightly and makes her squirm in her seat. Then Valentina sighs and looks away, her free hand toys with her empty cup just to have something to do. Juliana has no idea what to make of it. She wracks her brain to figure it out, but before she can, Valentina checks her watch.

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“It’s time for me to go.”

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Juliana can’t decipher the look on her face so she just says, “Okay.”

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“I have to get back and finish my chores, otherwise they’ll make me cook dinner and I promise no one wants that.” Valentina’s smile comes easily to her face and she’s suddenly back to her usual bright self. It gives Juliana whiplash and she has to blink rapidly before she can respond.

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“No, no one wants that. Although, now I _am_ curious about your cooking...” Teasing her allows Juliana to feel normal again.__

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Valentina stands and brings her cup with her as she turns to stride out of the room. She waits for Juliana to do the same and then links their arms at the elbows to walk. Yet again, Juliana is distracted by the mural of flowers on the wall, running the very tips of her fingers over them. The flowers rise thick off of the flat surface. Feeling the brushstrokes helps her understand the artist better; despite how delicate the flowers look from afar, up close it’s clear the artist has quite a heavy hand. By the time she looks back at Valentina, Juliana finds her gaze already locked on her in curiosity.

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“I find them beautiful too.”

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“Some of them are old and some are new. Can you find out who painted them for me?” Juliana asks, looking back at the mural.

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“Of course. Are you an artist?” She turns back once again to see Valentina watching her with a fond smile.

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“Sort of,” She tilts her head back and forth.

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“What does ‘sort of’ mean?” Valentina says with a raised brow.

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“It means ‘_sort of_,’” Juliana responds with a light laugh. “I like to draw and paint, but I sew for a living.” At last they reach the side door to the sanctuary, but neither of them looks like they want to leave.__

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“Tell me more about your art later?” Valentina asks, hopeful.

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“If you want.”

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“Well I _do_ want.” She says impassioned. Something about it sends a trickle down the back of Juliana’s neck.__

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“Okay.”

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Valentina smiles brightly, clearly used to getting what she wants. Must be part of being a rich and beautiful girl.. “Great! I do really have to go, but I’ll see you in Mass?”

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“What else would I be here for?” Juliana says, her mouth twitching up at the corners.

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“Me, obviously.” Valentina rolls her eyes at her, “Here, I’ll take that. You go get a good seat.” She delicately takes Juliana’s cup out of her hand and disentangles their arms. Juliana looks over her shoulder at the empty sanctuary.

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“A good seat, sure.” She says, unable to resist teasing her again.

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“Oh stop! Just sit where you I can see you, I’ll need a distraction.”

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“Okay.” She takes a couple steps backwards and watches Valentina wave at her before walking back down the hallway. She sighs as a release of some emotion she can’t name.

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Juliana finds a pew closer than she had been sitting for the past couple of weeks, one with a clear view of where she knows Valentina will soon be sitting. She checks her phone. Eight fifteen. She groans internally because that’s a whole forty-five minutes without anything to do. She opens the notes app on her phone and types in a reminder to research the different flowers she saw on the walls. Maybe she can sew some patterns when she gets home, the ones native to México would probably be popular.

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Again finding herself with nothing to do, Juliana looks around taking in her surroundings. Candles burning, faint wisps of incense clinging to the air, and light falling from the large stained glass windows; all things she’s familiar with by now--comfortable with, even. The large crucifix adorning the wall ahead of her, however, is something she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to. Her gaze washes over Jesus’ face, the way the blood trickles down past his ears and how his features are twisted in agony. His empty stare bores a hole into her. She guesses that this terrifying image is meant to remind the congregation of the suffering he experienced on their behalf. It does its job as she sinks into her guilt.

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How could she have been laughing and having fun with Valentina when she should have been groveling for forgiveness? She wants to slap herself for her selfishness. Instead, she brings the edge of the phone she’s gripping tightly in her hand to her forehead and taps it lightly. She’s so quick to give into Valentina’s pull when she should be more concerned with her penance. Her head falls onto the back of the pew, eyes sliding closed.

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“Señora de la Noche,” she begins her prayer, “I know why I’m here. I’m sorry for losing sight of that. I beg your forgiveness again, but I don’t know how to earn it. I don’t think you’re one to be satisfied with a Hail _Mary_.” Juliana wants to laugh at the thought, but it gets her thinking. Maybe Valentina had been right about using the rosary for her? She pulls it out of her purse and examines it more closely. It’s a beautiful dark red wood, probably cherry, with swirls of woodgrain embellishing the cross. The beads are smooth and perfectly spherical and they slide through Juliana’s fingers as she reaches to hold the cross. She needs a plan, something like what Valentina had told her was standard rosary procedure, but simple enough for her to remember.__

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Holding the cross tightly in her hand, she whispers, “Santa Muerte, please bless the souls that have been sent to you by my papá.” She moves to the large bead on the opposite side, “Santa Muerte, please forgive me my cowardice.” And finally for each of the smaller beads, “provide me the courage to protect those in need.”

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Once finished, Juliana breathes heavily and opens her eyes. It felt right, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She looks around and swears she can feel a presence surrounding her, the hair on her neck stands on end. Before she can think too long about it, she feels an actual draft of air. It startles her enough to drop her rosary, and when she turns to find the source, she’s met with the demure faces of the Sisters entering the sanctuary. Valentina is among them, looking far less bright than Juliana is used to seeing her. She realizes why after a moment. An older Sister hands Valentina a bucket and some rags and points to the sanctuary.

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With her front row seat, Juliana can easily see how Valentina’s eye twitches after the Sister turns her back. She has to stifle her laugh so she won’t catch the attention of the Sisters. She feels better, now that she’s figured out how to pray and now that she’s seeing Valentina’s face again. And what a face it is; her scowl has set in, but that only endears her to Juliana more. She looks fondly on as Valentina drags her bucket and rags to the rear of the sanctuary to begin polishing the pews closest to the entrance. 

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Turned in her seat on the pew, Juliana watches her toil. It looks like hard work... hard work that Juliana now knows Valentina has never done in her life. She almost pities her, but thinks better of it. Maybe doing all this work will help Valentina recover. She’s sure Valentina doesn’t agree, considering how her brows are knit together in frustration and effort. She smiles absentmindedly in her direction and gets caught. Valentina lifts her head up and blows wisps of hair out of her face with her eyes crossed and then makes eye contact with Juliana. Juliana’s smile widens and Valentina looks like she has to tamp down on her own in order to send an exaggerated glare her way. Juliana laughs openly and turns back in her seat to avoid more dirty looks.

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Valentina eventually works her way over to Juliana’s pew. She’s almost done, having started in the back, and Juliana can tell how tired she is. Sweat drips down the bridge of her nose and she’s breathing heavily. Every few seconds she stops to flex her hand; Juliana knows it must be stiff. 

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She starts to feel bad for Valentina again, that is, until she passes by and leans down to her ear to whisper, “You are so mean.”

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“Por que?” She whispers back, turning her head to catch Valentina’s eye. Valentina’s gaze roams her face as she raises one eyebrow and bites her lip, clearly holding back what she wants to say. Juliana is dying to know what it is, so she blinks innocently at her, hoping to gain a reaction.

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“Ugh, you are impossible! We are so not friends anymore.” Juliana catches the smile threatening to break through Valentina’s serious expression and she basks in her victory.

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After another few minutes of backbreaking work, the Sisters dismiss themselves to prepare their minds and bodies for Mass. More of the public are steadily arriving now, and the sanctuary is quickly filling. Padre Reyes nods politely in her direction as he passes her on the way up to his position. It takes several more minutes for the Sisters to return, more fresh faced than before, and find their seats above the pulpit.

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Mass passes in a blur. She finds it hard to focus when Valentina spends most of it staring at her. It confuses her. On one hand, she feels scrutinized, and on the other, she feels witnessed--as though she’s a holy book that Valentina feels called to decipher. Juliana suddenly feels naked, pinned under her gaze, and a chill trickles down her spine. She can’t tear her eyes away, entranced by the weight she finds in Valentina’s own. 

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The entire congregation echoes something after the Padre and it breaks her trance. She doesn’t know what it was and she panics, worried that someone saw their staring contest. She risks a glance back up at Valentina and sees an oddly smug look on her face. Yet another thing she’ll have to work out later. This girl is too confusing. She’s startled again when people start scooting their way out of the pews and toward the exit. She can’t believe it; Mass is over already?

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Juliana stands as well, on surprisingly shaky legs, and walks over to loiter near the side door to the convent. She finds herself impatient to speak to Valentina again and has to force a smile for every Sister who passes by. Finally, Valentina comes into view and it seems like she’s taking her sweet time to get to Juliana. With the show she put on during Mass, Juliana really wouldn’t put it past her. After what feels like hours, Valentina walks up to her and bounces on her heels.

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“Hi.”

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Juliana wants to be angry with her, but what would she even be angry about? All Valentina did was look at her. She decides to ask because it’s all she can think about. “What was all that? During Mass?” She gestures to where Valentina had been sitting.

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“I don’t know what you mean,” Valentina says innocently, hands clasped behind her back.

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“Oh, really? And you call me impossible…” 

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“I’m sorry, did my staring distract you while you were trying to focus on something else?” Valentina mockingly tilts her head to the side, her smile giving away that it’s said in jest.

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Juliana wants to smack her own forehead. Obviously it was payback for watching Valentina while she worked. She hadn’t realized that she had distracted Valentina so much. She shifts timidly, offering an apologetic smile, “Perdón, I didn’t mean to bother you while you worked so hard.”

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“Don’t be sorry. Now we’re even.” Valentina straightens up and bounces on her toes again. “May I give you a tour? You’ve only really seen the one hallway.”

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Juliana pulls out her phone to check the time. Ten thirty. She sighs, “Unfortunately no. I’m sure my mamá is already starting to worry. I didn’t tell her I was coming early today.” 

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Valentina’s hopeful face falls at the news, “Okay. Next week?”

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“Sounds good. I’ll bring more coffee.” Juliana starts toward the exit and beckons Valentina to follow. 

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Valentina looks like she’s going to tell Juliana not to worry about it, but she stops herself. “Yes, por favor. That would be lovely.” Even walking more slowly than usual in an attempt to prolong their time together, they reach the entrance to the cathedral in what seems like the blink of an eye. “Well, this has been a big day. I hope to have more of these soon,” Valentina says.

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“Next week. Seven thirty?”

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Valentina take a second to think, “Hmm, let’s try seven forty-five so you aren’t waiting for me after breakfast. Is that okay?”

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“Fifteen more minutes of sleep? Claro que sí,” Juliana says with a laugh, “I’ll see you then, Val.” 

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“Bye,” Valentina says fondly, waving at Juliana as she bounds down the stairs and in the direction of her home. She steals a glance over her shoulder only to see Valentina watching her from the doorway. She blushes under the attention, and feels the inexplicable need to skip down the street.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew! this one is over a week later than i wanted it to be, but i had to rewrite a few scenes before i deemed it worthy of posting. i hope the nearly 5k words makes up for it. as always, please let me know if you liked it! <3
> 
> special thanks to @lyl-i-am for helping me figure out italics. i've gone back and fixed the italics in the previous chapters, too.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you all enjoyed!! if you wanna come yell at me about Juliana or religion or anything really, come find me @songayes on tumblr. special thanks to @estamos-destinadas for the encouragement. love y'all <3


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